


Christmas Drabbles

by Merfilly



Category: Birds of Prey (TV), DCU - Comicverse
Genre: De-Aged, First Time, Humor, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Multi, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-25
Updated: 2006-12-25
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Requested Drabbles for Christmas 2006</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Drabbles

Roy always came here to clear his mind, recharge his batteries. With the past year having been so insane, the vacation to the desert had been a long one. He had purged the negativity of Dick almost dying in battle, of the sheer weight of facing his own death, with Ollie so ready to defend him against insurmountable odds, of almost single-handedly leading the heroes' response against the prison riots.

He spent one last night under the stars, letting the desert fill him. Tomorrow, he would go back, rejoin the urban insanity.

Tonight, he was still the desert's favorite son.

* * *

Slade had always driven Dick crazy in combat.

Now it was Roy’s turn in that position, as he lost his second gun and came down to his martial skill.

He saw that for the mistake it was as the older, heavier man got the immediate upper hand, wrestling Roy down and pinning him. Under the mask, Roy was sure the man smirked when he drew a hand up Roy's thigh, over his hip and side so casually. The caress, their position…all distracted his body into a swift, painful arousal.

He never even noticed the knockout blow from the other hand.

* * *

Connor never minded the rain. Kyle hated it. Or not so much hated it, as preferred the comfort of being dry. Being wet and miserably cold was only fitting for being depressed. A state of mind that Connor had driven far away.

Walking with Connor, then, as the rain stated to fall at last, made Kyle shake his head and wish he had never agreed to go outside.

Until his lover tucked in close to him, sharing body heat for the cold walk.

And at home, curled together in a blanket, Kyle decided maybe the rain was not so bad.

* * *

It had been a chance meeting at a bad point in Diana's life. She'd come to the stunning conclusion Bruce would never accept her in his life. And then Oracle had gone missing, and he had called all available people to find her.

Diana had found the woman, and been thunderstruck by the sheer tenacity of the paralyzed woman fighting her way free, alone. Diana had let her continue to fight, and worked the edges of the rescue.

It might've been that fact, but Oracle proved to be one Bat Diana did impress, as the rescue led to a beginning.

* * *

Kon was the bomb. He just knew it. First off, he was a Titan…had been invited there anyway. When he put all the rest aside, that mattered a lot. And he knew…just knew Cassie was digging him seriously.

The cooler part of that was that he thought Tim did too. He figured, being a Super Teen, he might be able to swing both of them…they liked each other after all.

He was sure he'd get a chance to figure out which one was serious.

He just wondered how Kal would react if he knew Kon was hoping it was Tim.

* * *

It was the farthest they had ever gone, actually getting brave enough to touch rather than grope through clothing. Kon looked funny, concentrating like Tim would break as he slid his hand inside the other boy's pants.

"Whoa?!" He froze, his hand just resting against the trapped cock and balls.

"What?" Tim's voice cracked as he went from deep pleasure at the touch to wary surprise.

"Smooth…" Kon looked very surprised, and a touch unsure.

"Oh." Tim's cheeks flushed bright red. "I, um, kinda keep all my body smooth."

"Nice." The hand explored more boldly, as Kon claimed a kiss.

* * *

Babs fought the urge to giggle. Her partner glared balefully.

"Not one word…."

"Oh no," Babs said, before the laughter escaped her. Helena's glare turned ten shades of her father, with her mother's cat-stiff indignant posture.

"No laughing either!" She pushed her caked hair back, glaring at the stains it left on her hand. 

"You have to let me take a picture…"

"In nine rings of hell…NO!" Helena stalked toward the bathroom.

"But Hel…"

"Babs, so help me god, if you ever mention this to me again, I will cut every wire to your computer."

Babs covered her mouth, pulling her laughter to herself. She would just have to remember the night a stakeout got interrupted by a raging paint gun battle by keeping the pictures off her security cams, as Helena, in a multitude of colors, set about getting clean.

* * *

He stroked her hair, as it flowed across his chest, and she purred.

"I'm insane," she murmured, kissing his chest, just over a small scar.

"Likely." He smiled down at her, his one eye sparkling with smug contentment.

"You really should not agree with the hero laying in your bed about insanity." She flowed up over him, her legs on either side of his hips, blonde hair tumbling around her face.

"If the hero in question's not insane, why is she in my bed?" His hands ran up her thighs, until one thumb teased over her darks curls.

"Because, somewhere around the time you fed me dino steaks, I seemed to have a slip of ethics concerning the man I wanted." She slid back slowly, her body teasing his.

"It was a helluva boat ride back," he rumbled, bucking just right, making her gasp as he brought them together once more.

"It's just been a hell of a ride ever since," she corrected, matching his rhythm.

"I honestly don't know which I like better, little bird…."

"Oh? This, or meeting me in a fight?"

"Yeah." 

She leaned down, kissing him until he knotted his hands in her hair, his movements growing more aggressive. When they parted, he moved and bit at her collarbone, before kissing a vivid mark into her skin there. 

"I prefer this; less likely to wind up with an ugly ending," she murmured.

He met her gaze, smiling softly, before kissing her with tender, gentle passion. His freedom, versus her health….

He just would never admit out loud that the meetings in hotel rooms were truly his favorite too.

* * *

They hit the table with their mugs at almost the same time, getting a laugh from them both. The two mugs joined an ever-growing tower, as the waitresses had been forbidden to take them, while the pilot and the boxer held a drinking contest.

"All these years, hon…"

"Yeah, I know." Wildcat flexed his arm. "And I still got it."

She reached over and squeezed. "Yep. Sure do."

"Remember that night at the USO?" He grinned unrepentantly.

"How can I forget? Janus nearly popped a blood vessel." Zinda leaned over into the big boxer.

"How was I to know I couldn't hit on a service woman." He debated stealing a kiss right then, but he remembered she had a mean punch too.

"Well, I'm not in service anymore," she hinted.

"So why are we here?" he asked, standing and helping her up. She came lightly to her feet, and they sauntered out, arm in arm.

* * *

He set the last charge, looking at the house with an impassive eye. He had not even bothered to go inside, once he had gotten here, recovering still from the mental domination by his middle child.

A few flashes of what he had done, of what Joey's tortured soul had driven his body, his hands to do had been enough to warn him from entering. There was nothing left for him in this house. And far too much that no one should ever have that belonged to his professional life.

He walked calmly away from the house, not even looking back as he hit the detonator. The charges went off, collapsing the support beams and setting off the incendiaries. Years of business records were soon set on fire, along with the journals that had been written about his life.

Along with the trophies. Especially the one Joey had created.

"Good-bye, Wintergreen…"

He drove away, going to set himself up elsewhere, to carry on, now that he had lost the last link to his life before Deathstroke.

* * *

It had been almost five years. Time enough for the raw pain to become a dull throb. Time enough to try and move forward.

Time for the pair to decide if it were real, or if it had been no more than shared grief, a falling together for lack of their other halves.

Roy watched Tim sleep from the doorway, seeing the new Nightwing armor had held up to another bloody night. His heart caught in his throat as he saw that; if it had not, he'd be mourning again, not wondering if what they had was enough. He had heard from Grace just how bad a pounding Nightwing had received before she got on scene.

He sighed softly; he knew in his heart of hearts that he loved Tim. Knew it was as good as he had ever had it with someone not Dick.

He just did not know if Tim felt the same way. 

The archer took his time removing the heavy red Kevlar and leathers that made his own uniform, the costume of Red Arrow. It was a bitter thought that they both had grown into the identities of the men they had admired most; Tim never should have had to pick up the mantle so young. If he had chosen to change the colors somewhat to honor his fallen lover, no one would blame him.

Roy, after all, had kept his red to avoid thinking about his fallen mentor/father figure so much when he strapped on his armor at night. Focusing on Kon was a way for Tim to avoid focusing on Dick.

Not that it made perfect sense.

Nothing did much in their world.

When he went to shower, leaving Tim in that deep sleep state the younger man had found in the sanctity of their home, of their shared lives, Roy scrubbed repeatedly at his face under the hot water. It helped him pretend his eyes were strictly wet from the water, the steam.

The shower door slid to one side, and then Tim was there, kissing his shoulders, his neck, before being twisted around Roy's own body and held. Soft kisses turned fierce, as the ache, the worry boiled up inside the archer.

"Not leaving, not going anywhere." Tim's voice was harsh, gruff with impatience for his lover's continued doubt.

"God damn it, Tim…you say that but…"

"I won't say the other. People go away when I do." Tim ran his hand through Roy's wet hair, letting the water beat down on his back as he did.

"I need it," Roy admitted.

Tim kissed the older man, using his lips, his hands to say the words he could not.

Five years had not dulled his memory of just how much he had lost. 

Tim could not lose this one, even if it meant never saying the three words Roy most wanted, the ones that would have shown him this was forever.

Five years just had not been enough.

* * *

His first impulse, as always, was to decline the polite offer. He knew Kent only offered out of some ingrained sense of manners. After all, why on earth would millionaire Bruce Wayne want to sit to dinner with two investigative reporters like Clark Kent and Lois Lane?

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Bruce found himself saying, despite a complete lack of enthusiasm. Lois's smile at him grated his nerves; yes, he had gotten entangled with her before, but it had never been more than a reason to…

He jerked his thoughts out of that pattern immediately, listening to Kent tell him just where they lived, and what time to come by, as if Bruce did not know exactly where the Kent-Lane apartment was.

He was glad of other engagements to step away, to get out of their presence, cursing himself for a fool in his mind as he did. The solid curses never stopped, until he was down in the limo, Alfred's personality a soothing anodyne to his emotions.

//Why in all that is sacred am I having these…responses? I **don't** do emotions.// He looked out the window as they passed through Metropolis's streets. 

He knew, under harsh self-analysis just what his problem was. It was one so typically human, one that had caused wars from time immemorial.

He was jealous. Beyond, he corrected ruthlessly. Obsessed was more the correct word for it. From the minute it had been obvious, when he had seen the wistfulness Lois had for Superman all those years ago, Bruce had been jealous of Lois Lane. And he had seen his worries borne out, when Clark had finally admitted who he was to the woman, and a steady romance had blossomed between the reporters. Bruce had merely sat back, ruthlessly clamping down on the voice who said they were doomed to failure, if it was the alien, and not the man, she was in love with.

`~`~`~`~`

The door opened, and Clark stood there, his shirt undone by two buttons, the tie gone, looking entirely too relaxed when Bruce felt he was on pins and needles.

"Hi, Bruce." Clark smiled, and the Gotham Prince tried hard not to scowl in turn. He held up the bottle of wine, as he forced an easy smile to his lips.

"Hello, Clark." He edged past, once Clark moved enough to let him in. Lois was in the door to the kitchen by then, and he turned his charm on her. "Lois, it smells so good! You amaze me, with all that talent and then you cook too!"

"Oh stop!" She smiled as Clark brought the wine to her. "Not bad, Bruce…only worth a month's pay for me," she teased. He bantered back with her over the wine, as his eyes noted the mixed décor of the apartment. 

Pieces of Clark's life mingled with Lois's everywhere, from reporting awards to diplomas on the wall, to one of those multi-snapshot frames with both their families represented in it. When Lois went back in the kitchen, Clark came out with a glass for them each, settling on the couch with his friend.

"Lois was so glad you accepted this time." Clark looked at him through those fake lenses that obscured the handsome features beneath them. "She had it in her head you didn't like her anymore."

//I don't. She's got you, every night.// "Oh that's ridiculous. I have nothing but respect for Lois's capabilities." Bruce sipped his drink, trying to look as relaxed as his casual turtleneck and slacks gave the appearance of. He knew he had his heart and breathing under control; that was second nature whenever Clark was near. It would never do to let his secret slip.

Clark gave him a shrewd glance, and Bruce cursed inwardly again. He knew Clark was mulling over his choice of phrasing, making him move quickly through a series of verbal reassurances.

"After all, Clark, I would have been quite content to sweep her away to Gotham." //Away from you.//

Clark laughed, remembering that early shared adventure. "Gotham lacked something," he teased. "Something bright, red, blue, and yellow."

//Don't I know it?// "You have a point," Bruce said, accepting the tease. When Lois called them to dinner, he resolved to get through this as swiftly as he could, ill at ease surrounded by the evidence of the happy couple.

The couple that was not him with the man he wanted, the man he had watched over and fallen for in the course of saving each other's lives a million times. A couple made up of an extraordinary man and his inquisitive, hyper intelligent but oh so abrasive woman.

Bruce only barely managed to not grind his teeth. He took his place at the table, watched Lois be seated by her small-town boyfriend and smiled politely. At times, he was surprised the pair had not gotten married, to keep Clark's morals intact…and as the thought passed his mind, he felt awash with a cold feeling of loneliness. The day these two did marry…there was a strong chance that was the day the Bat won.

How he made it through dinner, discussing the inanities of normal life, as well as the more notable current news topics, he would never know. Nor was he sure how he handled it when it was Lois who saw him out, as Clark went to wash the dishes.

"Bruce." Lois's voice stopped him, to see she had stepped out in the hall. 

"Yes Lois?"

"Don't be such a stranger." Her violet eyes were guarded for some reason. "Clark doesn't have many friends on a really close footing." When Bruce did not answer, she shook her head. "You might be the only one he would want to come into our apartment and have dinner with," she pointed out. "So don't stay away so much."

He regarded her a long moment, and swallowed the bitterness in his throat. "I'll look into it, Lois. Good night." With that, he left the floor, left the building, and returned to the shadows where he could brood.

* * *

J'onn had heard the Dark Knight called a shadow, a part of the darkness that entrenched his city. The Martian had doubted this all along, seeing the long touch of what Batman's deeds wrought.

But it was the awareness of how the Man of Steel reacted to the Dark Knight that slowly drew out the truest analogy he could see.

Batman was an invisible sun, radiating a heat and power that fed the Man of Steel, even as it nurtured all those he protected, all the lives he touched. It had been evident even when J'onn was new to dealing with the two of them on one team. All he had to do was filter over all the experiences, and he could see what was so plain that neither the Man of Steel nor his Dark Knight could place their finger on it. He could only hope that one day, they both would bask in the passion they shared, rather than continue to submerge it in dead end relationships elsewhere.

`~`~`~`~`

It was a perfectly innocent conversation, two men discussing their lives, J'onn could hear. But on another level, despite the perfect control of their voices, their body language, J'onn could not help but hear the cries to one another on a very different level. One that wanted to defy societal impressions, escape the roles they had bound themselves up in. The Martian had to repress a sigh when Clark's sun left him, returning to the dark he gave that passion to. One day, he was sure they had to see what they both denied.

Such thoughts were cut short as an alert went out, one potent enough to warrant the three of them all going to tend to it. Through it all, J'onn was vaguely aware of the measures both men went to in combat to protect the other, even if it did not seem obvious to others. J'onn might have overlooked it, if he did not have to hear the leakage of concern in certain thoughts.

`~`~`~`~`

J'onn strove hard to keep from being invasive. Batman was quite injured, and Superman was not taking it well. The silent dance of mutual attraction had gone on so long, yet both continued to steadfastly ignore it. Now, all the things unsaid, untried were crowding Superman's mind, making him a difficult person for J'onn to be around.

"Kal." He made the Kryptonian look at him. "Please step outside."

"But…"

"NOW." J'onn could not take the pressure Kal's mind presented, not when he needed to reach Batman's upper mind, to be sure he had not suffered further injuries of the hidden sort. The Man of Steel had never looked more like a sulking child than at that moment, but he did leave, pausing only at the door to issue a parting word.

"I'll be _right_ here." 

"I know you will be," J'onn managed to whisper, before closing his eyes. The battle had been a fierce one, and the man they had fought possessed a psychic scream; it was J'onn's fear that the injured man had been affected by that scream.

{"Bruce?"} When that gentle query provoked nothing, J'onn tried harder, switching tactics. {"Batman, you must answer me."}

{"Get out of my head!"} The urgent, vehement order was staggering, but J'onn had glimpsed beyond it, had seen the image of a torn body in blue and red and yellow…and understood. The scream inflicted emotions, images that evoked those emotions spawning within the mind.

{"He is safe."} The Martian offered his own thoughts of ordering a concerned Kal out of the room entirely.

{"…"} There was along pause. {"You know."} The words were half accusation, half seeking confirmation, and J'onn flavored his thoughts with affirmation.

{"I know many secrets, but I do not share them,"} J'onn said carefully.

{"Don't ever share this one."} The menace of the Bat was very real, here in Bruce's mind, where his will dominated everything.

{"I would not."} J'onn was not one to leave it quite that way though. {"Just remember, friend, that a secret can hurt its bearer and its owner."} He withdrew, with a mild suggestion that Bruce let himself sleep.

`~`~`~`~`

"Why do you choose to be alone?" Superman hovered near J'onn as the green alien worked to correlate mission reports. "Is it a fear of their shorter lives? A feeling of not fitting in? Because you do…you are one of the most human leaguers, it seems like."

"I prefer my privacy, Superman." J'onn would never admit that, like his friends, he feared the evil that would harm those he loved if he pursued relationships seriously. Not that he had not stumbled into a few. Diane Meade had taught him that it was possible to love and never truly be with the one you loved. He still protected her, though it was a rare day that he would let her know it, now that she had discovered what he really was. And then there had been Audrey…he pushed those thoughts away. He was still raw from that relationship, knowing she lived and yet he could never be with her again.

"But…it gets lonely." The tense made J'onn look at him.

"You have the adoration of the world, and a marriage that is the epitome of legend. So why do you feel such loneliness?" 

Superman flushed. "They say I could live a very, very long time. Not immortal but…"

"Kal…there is only one time that we all live in," the Martian said. "No matter how long we exist, there is only _now_ to live in."

He watched as his friend mulled that concept over, something more than what he was saying evident on that chiseled face. "What if another person chooses to always live in the plans of the future?"

"Then perhaps, they should be shown the now," J'onn said, surprised that Clark was guarding his thoughts so closely. He wondered if it meant….

"I'll keep that in mind."

`~`~`~`~`

The next time he passed a room they both were in, J'onn had to keep his face from showing what he felt. He had no idea which of them had made the first move. No idea if they had even discussed it. There was not even a thought of how Clark would handle his marriage troubles.

But to see Clark with his head bent to one side, Bruce's hand along his neck, and the sheer weight of hiding raised from them…it made J'onn happy.

Maybe now the two of them could find peace.

* * *

"I guess we don't get our date, huh?"

The de-aged, de-sized Batman gave an irritable sigh at Superman, victim to the same mix of magic and science.

"There are more important things, Clark," he hissed, before turning and … actually saw the boy his friend had become.

Clark had been blessed with perfect genetics. That had never been more clear to Bruce, than as he studied the teenaged form. And, much as his mind denied the possibility of fooling around, as the reference to their date inferred, his body was all but demanding that same result. 

"Damn," he said in a choked voice, feeling the pressure of the cup in his armor become far too constricting. 

"I could help with that," the red, blue, and yellow clad teen was smirking a bit as his eyes focused on his lover's crotch.

"We're underage," he growled, as if that would have any true logic.

"Come on, Bruce…why don't you try and …I don't know, have fun?" Clark's eyes were amused.

"I'm Batman; I don't have fun," the teen sulked.

"So why are you so hard in your jock you can't even walk right now?" the other asked smugly.

"This is embarrassing." Bruce turned away again, his cheeks flushed.

"Embarrassing as it may be, it could also be very, very enjoyable," Clark said with wicked tones. He moved up behind Bruce, his hands strong enough to be felt through the armor.

"Clark…" He had more than enough to think about, but his brain was losing way to the hormones flowing so fiercely in this young body.

"Yes, Bruce," the cocky super teen reached up, slowly peeling the cowl back when Bruce did not stop him.

"We shouldn't."

"Yes, we should," the Kryptonian pressed, before making Bruce turn back, taking his mouth in a lazy kiss. Bruce growled into it, but gave up, sliding his hands over that 'S' and the hard muscles underneath. 

"We don't have what we need…" he did say, as Clark opened the catches of the suit and the belt in proper order.

"Then we just have to content ourselves with …other ways." His blue eyes were very playful as he slid down the body of his lover, pushing the tights down as he went. Freeing Bruce from the cup had the interesting effect of causing his lover to both hiss and moan at the sensation.

"I find it very hard…"

"So do I…and so good," Clark teased, running a hand back up the inside of Bruce's thigh, kneeling there.

"…to believe you, at this age, even thought of doing anything remotely like this," Bruce continued, as if uninterrupted.

"Might have thought about some things…but you were my primary corrupting influence," Clark said before he ran his tongue up the painfully swollen length. Bruce shuddered, a low moan escaping him as he found his control, much like with other things, was shot in this department. He began to suspect that was just what Clark had wanted to use against him.

"And you call me manipulative." He knotted his hands in Clark's hair, smiling when Clark's confirming chuckle told him his guess was right. He let his head fall back when his lover took him in, the tight, wet _pull_ so deliciously hard to resist. "Nggghhh…"

Strong hands, strong enough to bend steel, held human hips very still, allowing the mouth they belonged with to slide along the hardness, licking at sensitive spots. Bruce felt his chest growing tight, the burn in every nerve increasing, until Clark finally swallowed him to the base, and his younger, hormone-addled body lost it. 

When Clark slid up his body, looking insufferably smug at having gotten his way, Bruce let a smile lift the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you for that …relief." He reached for his gear, watching Clark's face immediately fall. 

"But…"

"This was for me to be able to function, yes?" Bruce was maintaining his voice at a calm level now. "I was the one with the erection impeding my motion."

Clark let out a strangled noise, then snatched his lover and pressed him tight to the wall. His groin rubbed insistently against Bruce's bare thigh, the spandex leave a feeling of friction.

"In relieving you, I think I attained the same problem," Clark whispered, before kissing Bruce's throat.

"Hmm, you do seem to have a sizable erection," the human teen agreed with a roguish half smile on his lips. "It would be a shame to make you hover or fly _everywhere_ , the cape pulled around you…"

"Tease."

"Yes, I am." Bruce brought his hand between them, sliding into those tight trunks and spandex tights, to wrap his hand along the length. Clark's knees shook as he felt the rush of pleasure, and he suddenly realized the hormones ran a two way street in the loss of control.

"Bruce…" His voice was shaky. "Would…you…please…" He could not finish, as that hand so skillfully worked him, bringing him just to the brink before stopping. "BRUCE?!"

"Calm down, Clark. I'd rather you not explain any stains," the ever-practical Bruce said with a smug smile. Clark closed his eyes, reaching for a control he absolutely doubted the existence of.

"Please…" His words chopped off as Bruce slid the tights and trunks out of his way, kneeling. 

"Yes?" Bruce looked up at Clark, even as his breath floated across the sensitive head.

"Oh Rao," Clark whimpered. "Please, just finish me, Bruce!"

"Well, as you asked so nicely…." The next instant, all Clark could feel or see was the white-hot blinding sensation of his body seeming to explode. Bruce felt very pleased he had been able to make Clark that crazy as he swallowed every drop, keeping his lover clean. He purposefully slid up Clark's body, claiming his mouth hard, and gripping the back of his head as the super teen was still struggling to get his senses back.

"How was that for a date?" Bruce looked quite pleased.

"We should do that again," Clark replied, slowly adjusting his costume as Bruce moved away to dress fully.

"We'll see," Bruce hinted.


End file.
